Hot Springs
by waterflower20
Summary: He's completely, utterly, unquestionably unsuitable for her; he's younger, son of her former fling, and her assistant. So why is the bl*** man here, when the reason she run away from London was to get away from him?


**Title:** Hot Springs  
><strong>Prompt: <strong>#36 "Revenge is a dish best served...shagged." Hermione used to date (Character A), but was dumped for another witch. She meets his son years later and decides payback is in order. Male character's son is of age.  
><strong>Summary:<strong> He's completely, utterly, unquestionably unsuitable for her; he's younger, son of her former fling, _and _her assistant. So why is the bloody man here, when the reason she run away from London was to get away from him?  
><strong>Rating: <strong>NC-17  
><strong>Pairing: <strong>Hermione Granger/Scorpius Malfoy

**Kink: **Striptease, sexy/witty banter, exhibitionism, skinny dipping

**Additional comments**: As mentioned above, her partner should've finished Hogwarts since this is a cross-gen pairing  
><strong>Warnings: <strong>Explicit sexual content (het), age difference

**Author's Note: **Firstly, thanks to my beta, **Fluffpanda**, for once again making this story better.

This was my submission in the Hermione-smut exchange in livejournal; the reveals are out, so I'm allowed to post this here.

If you want to read the full version – including the explicit sexual scenes, - please, visit my profile page; you'll find a link to my livejournal. I would advise you to read the original, whole story, if you are old enough.

**PS:** This is my first time writing Scorpius/Hermione, so be kind in your reviews! And no, before anyone ask, I will not continue this. I see no point, since I feel the story is at a good point, and to be honest, I have no inspiration. So this is, and will remain, an one-shot.

_**Disclaimer**_**:**"Harry Potter" is the property of J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. This work of fiction/art was created entirely for fun, not for profit, and no copyright infringement is intended.

_**Hot Springs...**_

Hermione sank in the water with a blissful sigh; her sore muscles relaxing on their own, and her magic tingled as the enchanted water quite literally worked magic on her. Resting her head back, she made a mental note to send a gift, an expensive one, to Ginny as soon as she was back to London.

Her fiery haired friend had been the one to wave in front of her face the promotional pamphlet for the famous _Dragon__fly__ Inn, _a small inn in the wizarding part of Tunbridge Wells, and point blank told her that she needed a vacation.

After the divorce was finalized last month, Hermione had did her best to give the press vultures no reason to start digging further into her personal affairs than they did regularly. The separation had been amicable, and she needed no gossip mongers spreading tales of either hers or Ron's heartbreak, or supposed indiscretions that lead to their marriage's end.

The result was that she overworked herself to the point of exhaustion; even Ron, who had never complained about her work schedule while they were married, noted that if she kept this schedule up, she'd end up in St Mungo's.

The Inn was famous for the hot springs located in their property, Ginny had explained with a smirk, along with the rejuvenating effect the waters had on an individual's magic. To stay there normally cost an arm and leg, but the new owner, a Mrs Hawkins Atherton, happened to be an acquaintance of Mrs Potter, and was more than willing to accommodate a witch of Hermione's calibre. After all, as the witch said to Ginny, the fact Hermione Granger, nee Weasley, would be staying at her inn, would be a better advertisement than publishing an advert in the Prophet.

The photo of the picturesque inn, and the promise of hot springs and delicious breakfast with fresh bread and home made marmalade, had her packing her bags an hour after she took the afternoon off; the perks of being one's boss.

She arrived in front of the Inn an hour before dinner, and was immediately ushered in by the very hospitable Mrs Atherton, who reminded Hermione of a younger Mrs Weasley. The smell of dinner followed them all the way to her room – a nice room that overlooked the magically enchanted garden (there were too many flowers, exotic, out of season, blooming to be the work of nature) in the back of the house.

After a good night's sleep, she explored the woods surrounding the Inn, and visited the local shops, picking a small diner for lunch. Returning to her room, she ordered a light dinner, and decided that what would be the perfect way to end her second night of vacation, was to finally visit the infamous hot springs.

Now that she was there, Hermione privately admitted this vacation was exactly what she didn't know she needed.

The public scrutiny was just the tip of the iceberg in the mess that was her private life lately. The main reason she was strung tauter than a bow, had nothing to do with the divorce, or the press, or even her crazy, self imposed work schedule.

No, the reason was far more personal, and far more dangerous to her reputation, dignity and overall life if anyone caught a whiff of it.

At forty six, she considered herself, perhaps not old, but certainly not young; having had two children, now young adults, Hermione lacked any vanity regarding her appearance.

Yes, she worked out – Rose had taken an interesting in tennis at a young age, and demanded her mother to join her for matches every other day, - and had curves that many women half her age would die for, but she had never been beautiful, merely pretty. Her hair that so troubled her in her youth, had calmed as she grew older, and now fell in soft waves down her back; she had yet to notice any grey marring the mahogany curls, but at her age it was expected. Her skin was clear and smooth, her face lacking wrinkles, and her eyes were as bright as ever.

She carried herself with confidence, born from her success in her work and contentment with her life, and her intelligence, morals and hard working personality were admired and revered by her co-workers, leading her to become the youngest Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

And because she was not old, she had certain... _needs_. Needs that she couldn't keep taking care of herself. Loneliness played a part in her decision to start dating again, as well; Rose was living alone in Hogsmead, apprenticing under Professor Vector, who at the age of eighty seven, was considering retiring and had offered the position of Apprentice to Rose in her last year at Hogwarts. Arithmancy had always been her daughter's favourite subject, so the young witch had immediately jumped at the opportunity to earn a Mastery under such an esteemed Master.

Hugo, after taking the year after his graduation to travel the world, had decided he wanted to be a dentist like his Muggle grandparents. He was in USA, studying in a Muggle university.

Both had given her and Ron their blessings on finding another partner, showing a shocking level of maturity neither parent had expected from them.

The only problem with that scenario was that most men she met, sparked no interest in her; oh, they were handsome, intelligent and successful in their respective work fields, but none had made her shiver with anticipation, none had caused her toes to curl with pleasure when they kissed her.

Passion.

That was what she wanted, _needed._

And not one of the men she'd gone on a date with, had been enough to give her what she lacked in her life.

But no, that was not, strictly speaking, true. There was one man... One man who could make her quiver with lust, whose scent was enough to make her lower muscles clench wantonly. One man who was completely, utterly, unquestionably forbidden.

That man caused her to question her morals, and beliefs with just one look from his gorgeous eyes.

Twenty one, nearly twenty two, Scorpius Malfoy was probably the sexiest man she had ever laid eyes on. Tall, athletic, with broad shoulders, a trim waist leading to muscular thighs, and abs made of rock, the Malfoy heir had silver-blue eyes, the colour darkening or lightening depending on his mood, and the standard Malfoy platinum blond hair, which he wore shorter in the back, with his longer fringe falling over his stunning eyes.

The young wizard wasn't just picture perfect; he was brilliant – graduated second to Rose, - charming, mischievous and had a wicked sense of humour.

On top of his many good points, he was hard working, he didn't believe in blood purity – he actually showed a preference in dating Muggleborns or Half Bloods, - and had never tried to use his family name to get something, choosing to work his way to the top; something Hermione respected him for.

In fact, when Scorpius had showed up in her office for an interview for the position of her assistant, he had been professional, despite being friends with her children and nephews and nieces. Not once had he let their familiarity affect their working relationship.

Until recently that is.

For the past year, she had noticed him watching her; more closely, and much more intensely than he used to when he was a kid. Then, Ron and Harry had found it hilarious that the young Malfoy obviously had a crush on her, constantly teasing her when Scorpius would blush and stutter when she addressed him or smiled at the young boy; she had a feeling, her two best friends wouldn't find it as cute and funny now.

Not if they could see the way his eyes would darken as he watched her across the conference table when she held Department meetings; or the way he'd murmur her name, caressing every syllable, and bit his lip, staring at her under his white blond fringe with stormy grey eyes, sensual promises glinting in them.

Neither Harry nor Ron would laugh if they had seen the way the young wizard had pushed her against the bookcase in her office last week, shoving his thigh between her legs, and plundering her mouth with his tongue, wrecking havoc in her senses, and ruining her knickers with the way he rubbed his hard thigh against her clit, bringing her to completion within minutes.

They would have probably pass out, or Avada him, if they were there when he ripped her knickers off, dropped to his knees and used his mouth for what seemed like hours on her, making her come again and again, until she couldn't stand straight.

Yes, her friends would surely overreact if they ever find out that young Malfoy had bent her over her desk and fucked her hard, his stamina incredible, or how she had plead and cried for him to thrust harder, deeper, faster. Or the way she'd clenched around him, and had to bite her palm, hard enough to draw blood, to stop herself from screaming his name, since the cocky bastard had refused to silence the room, revelling in her desperate gasps and her inability to keep quiet.

The memory of his harsh pants, the crude sound of skin slapping against skin, and his dirty talk in her ear as he practically drove her insane with lust, had caused her to wake up every day since that fateful afternoon, soaking wet, and aching for his touch.

Mortified at what she had allowed to occur – he was Rose's age! Draco's son! Her assistant! Really, there were countless reasons that that afternoon had been a mistake of epic proportions, - the brunette witch had kept her distance from her handsome assistant, keeping up a cool, unaffected façade when he walked, _sauntered,_ in her office the next day, declaring it a mistake, and biting the inside of her cheek to keep her expression stony when his eyes darkened in anger, his lips pressed in a thin line.

Repeating her reasons to him, she had emphasized the importance of keeping things professional between them, and send him away.

After the initial anger at her behaviour though, Scorpius's unwanted –_ liar! __- _attentions returned with a vengeance, as if he was determined to call her out on her lie. Careful to never be alone in a room with him, Hermione did her best to ignore his innuendos and fight the desire he ignited inside her when he deliberately brushed up against her in the hallways, or brushed her fingers with his when handing her a folder; the _evil _man knew the effect he had on her, and was actually amused at her feeble attempts to stave him off, knowing it was a losing battle.

Not even a week later, and Hermione had been ready to spontaneously combust from sexual frustration, when he finally managed to corner her in her office. He had her skirt hiked up her thighs, his hand already inside her knickers, and his mouth latched to her throat when Harry had knocked on her door.

"_We'll finish this later",_ he'd darkly promised, hungrily kissing her mouth as he'd roughly pinched her clit, making her bite her tongue to keep from moaning and alerting Harry to what exactly she'd been doing with her assistant.

Hermione had fled to Harry and Ginny's cottage in Godric's Hollow that night, instinctively knowing Scorpius would show up at her place. And she had been right; the next day, the blond wizard had been spitting mad at her, glaring at her through his fringe during the weekly Department meeting.

She dreaded to think what his reaction was going to be when he found out, she'd skip the rest of the day, and took off from work this week; she only prayed that he'd not make a scene when she returned to the office.

This trip was meant for her to relax, and forget about her problems, mainly with Scorpius. She intended to stock up her resolution, and possibly find someone more suitable for her, in order to permanently push the insufferable Malfoy away.

This simply wouldn't do.

Merlin knew, _s__he wanted Scorpius. _She wanted him with an intensity that frightened her, and for that alone, he was dangerous.

Not to mention, it was so fucking wrong.

Ginny had said that the age difference was not so great in the wizarding world, where wizards and witches lived well over hundred; a twenty five year difference was minuscule, and there had been even greater gaps in arranged marriages.

But Hermione had been raised a Muggle; and even though such relationships were not unheard of, they were still gossiped about, and never in a good manner regarding the female.

Cougar, cradle snatcher, were just a few expressions that made her stomach coil with mortification; Merlin, her reputation would be ruined!

Why, oh why, had the damn man taken an interest in her? Scorpius was fucking gorgeous, he could have any woman he wanted, so why had he decided on her?

She who was old enough to be his mother? Merlin, she was older than his mother! And he was friends with Rose and Hugo! Sweet Nimue, there were just so many reasons this couldn't work!

The fact she had dated Draco for close to six months in their youth notwithstanding; some people, Draco included, might think she seduced the younger man, as an act of revenge against his father, but Hermione would never do something as petty. Draco's sins were not Scorpius's.

But it was one additional reason on why a potential relationship between them, was _Wrong, _with a capital W.

So why in the hell, was she trying to convince herself it wasn't as bad as it really was?

Why was she contemplating the possibility, when her rational mind knew this was a mistake.

Because he gave her passion... Because when he held her, when he looked at her, she was just Hermione; a woman. Because when he called out her name during his release, it was laced with true affection, his touch gentle and revering when he pulled her to his arms.

Because he said those damning three words, and he had been sincere; he meant them. His childhood admiration had grown to love, he'd said, and the way his eyes had stared straight to her soul, were proof that despite his young age, this was no mere infatuation.

And that in itself, was terrifying.

Ginny, who of course knew everything, had been torn between cheering for her – _a younger man, Mione! Well done, girl! - _and trying to be supportive of her decision to push him away. Although, Ginny had to begin with, tentatively proposed the idea of giving the younger man a chance. Was the potential scandal – okay, it was a foregone conclusion that there'd be a scandal the likes of which the wizarding world had yet to see, - worth her unhappiness?

Because there was no doubt, Hermione was miserable; she hardly slept, and when she did vivid dreams of her afternoon with Scorpius woke her up. Her morals raged a war with her wants, the fear of losing everything she'd work hard all these years for was up against her wild need for her assistant.

Water sloshing around her as she stretched her legs, she frowned in thought, her lids closing; was it really worth it?

Could she actually see a future with Scorpius, if she got over her fear?

The sex had been great, phenomenal even, but was it enough? What about their hobbies? Beliefs? Aspirations and plans for the future? He was young, he must have plans!

And what about their family? Their friends? Surely, they'd face the scorn of the whole wizarding society if their affair became public!

Was _he_ worth sacrificing her reputation over?

_Merlin, what a mess._

Her questions yearned for answers, but in this situation, there was only one way to get those answers; and it required her to confront the same man she had been running from, for this whole week.

"Merlin, what a mess." She repeated aloud, wrinkling her nose as the scent of sandalwood, musk and something else invaded her nostrils. A shiver ran down her spine – she knew that scent.

"Hello, _Ms. Granger__."_

She violently jerked, and bashed her head against the stone ledge of the spring; swearing up a storm, blinking back tears of pain as she tentatively rubbed the back of her throbbing head, and looked up, her heart in her throat.

His jeans hung low on his hips, and his jumper clung to his body like a second skin; his hair was dark with sweat and his fringe fell over his smouldering eyes. In one word, he looked edible.

"Um..."

_Get yourself together, woman! You are forty six, not sixteen!_

Why was he here? How did he know where she was?

What was she to do!?

So absorbed was she in her thoughts, shock still wrecking havoc in her mental faculties, she missed the way his eyes flashed wickedly, and the naughty smirk gracing his lips.

Quickly coming back to her senses, Hermione was ready to demand his leave, when she noticed Scorpius bending over, his hands busy untying his shoes.

"What are you doing?" She demanded, shakily. He couldn't possible... Could he!?

_No, oh, please, no!_

Scorpius ignored her; after taking his shoes off, he straightened, and sent a smirk at her, making her shiver.

"Scorpius-"

"Don't talk." He ordered, his voice husky.

The witch gulped nervously, and pressed against the hard edge of the hot spring enclosure, mentally pondering the merits of making a run for it. She was naked, and she'd probably slip if she tried to run, not to mention Scorpius was far more athletic than she, but if she stayed...

Well, she had an idea what was going to happen, and she'd tried to avoid this exact scenario for the past week.

A futile endeavour as it seemed; really, his reticence would have been admirable, if it wasn't so annoying!

Shaking with nerves, she was about to reach for her towel, when he abruptly pulled his shirt over his head, and threw it away carelessly, exposing the tight muscle shirt he wore underneath, that did nothing to hide his perfectly formed physique.

Her mouth went dry as he ran his hands through his hair, pushing the longer strands back and away from his eyes. Keeping his eyes on her, he trailed his long fingers down his face, drawing her attention to his lips, and even lower to his throat.

Her inner walls pulsed, memories of how his skin tasted when she licked the column of his throat invading her senses.

He seemed to be thinking along the same lines, because his eyes turned darker, pinning her on the spot.

Her wanton side won, and Hermione decided to throw caution to the wind.

She'd worry about the repercussions of her actions tomorrow. For now, she had a sexy man treating her to the most sensual striptease of her life, and she planned to enjoy every minute of it.

Understanding dawned on his features as her body relaxed, and his lips stretched to a sensual smile, sending heat pooling in her core.

Hermione bit her lip as his hands slowly trailed down his body; he grabbed his shirt and pulled it up and over his head, throwing it behind his back without a second glance to see where it landed. His skin glistened with sweat; her eyes tracked the procession of a drop of sweat down his pectorals to his defined abdominal muscles.

His low laugh startled her, and she looked up, a blush staining her cheeks.

"See something you like?" He huskily teased, a finger tracing the waist of his jeans enticingly, bringing her attention to the dark blond trail of hair on his lower stomach.

She should feel angry at his cheek, but at the moment, it only fuelled her desire.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she went for nonchalance. It was a Herculean effort, when her body was positively humming with arousal, but she managed.

"Not in particularly; I've seen better in my day."

Ribbing at his male pride, after tormenting him for a week by pushing him away, might not have been the best course of action, but it was too late now.

Scorpius though didn't appear insulted; he merely lifted an eyebrow, his eyes dancing with amusement.

"Have you, now?" He asked tauntingly. "If that's the case, perhaps I should stop. I wouldn't want to bore you, now, would I?"

_Impudent brat!_

Mentally scowling, she contemplated her answer; in the end, her pride won out. She had already given in her most primal needs. One concession was enough for the night.

"Perhaps, you should." She challenged, lifting her chin stubbornly. Noting the way his jaw locked, Hermione knew she should say no more, but she couldn't stop herself. "I'm sure I can find other means of... _entertainment_ around here. In fact... Mr Thompson offered to show me around earlier today; perhaps I should take him up on that offer, hm?"

"_Perhaps, _you should." He smiled sweetly, his mercurial eyes flashing. "If you want Mr Thompson to lose a fucking limb, that is."

She rolled her eyes.

"Violent thing, aren't you?"

"_Possessive_ might be a better word," he argued, his hands working on his zipper. Her inner muscles clenched in anticipation when he shoved his jeans down his strong thighs, revealing he wore no underwear underneath.

_Oh my._

Even if she had second thoughts about her actions, the sight of Scorpius Malfoy naked, staring at her with undisguised lust shining in his silvery blue eyes, would have obliterate them.

"I think I can live with that."


End file.
